


Junk Brat

by Sharkaiju



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: BDSM, Begging, Crying, Dom/sub, Humiliation, M/M, Non-Consensual Spanking, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Spanking, Wet & Messy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-28
Updated: 2020-08-28
Packaged: 2021-03-06 16:00:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,210
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26151520
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sharkaiju/pseuds/Sharkaiju
Summary: Junkrat's acting like a brat so Roadhog puts him in his place. Spanking fic with a side of crying. Warnings: non-consensual spanking, ugly crying, swearing, humiliation, dom/sub, unwanted arousal
Relationships: Junkrat | Jamison Fawkes/Roadhog | Mako Rutledge, Roadrat
Comments: 15
Kudos: 62





	Junk Brat

**Author's Note:**

> I had PunkRat in mind when I was describing his clothes but otherwise this is set in canon. This happens before they joined Overwatch/"went legit".

The sun was hot and unforgiving even as it sank; Junkrat squinted against it, glaring moodily at Roadhog, who was tinkering with the bike on the side of an empty highway. Damn thing was acting up again. Like fucking always. Junkrat wanted to blow the hunk of junk sky high, and Roadhog with it. Not that the big junker had really done anything to warrant such - but that didn’t matter. He was in a bitchy mood, and as far as he was concerned, it was Roadhog’s fault. The bike breaking down just proved it.

“That piece of shit is on the fucking fritz more than it’s runnin’,” he complained, kicking at the red desert dirt with his booted foot. Roadhog’s silence only irritated him more. “I dunno why you’re so fucking attached to it anyway,” he continued, spitting on the ground in annoyance when Roadhog still didn’t respond. “At this rate we coulda walked home by now.”

“No-one’s forcing you to stay,” Roadhog growled finally. He was crouched next to the bike, his long shadow stretching over the red dirt like a grim reaper. The sun was quickly sinking in the west; not long before it would be too dark to work on the bike.

“Some bodyguard you are,” Junkrat sniffed. “You really mean to suggest I oughtta just go gallyflootin’ out into the desert at night, all by my lonesome. Whatcha gonna do if I get eaten by dingoes or somethin’?”

“Take my half of the treasure and call it a day,” Roadhog said flatly, without looking up.

Junkrat snorted a laugh. “You don’t even know where it is, ya drongo.”

There was a tightness to Roadhog’s jaw. His big fingers gripped the wrench tighter. “Least it’d be quiet.”

“Rack off, you fat fuck,” Junkrat sneered, spitting again. His inability to get under Roadhog’s skin was pissing him off. He decided to continue the jabbering, since that was one thing that seemed to work. “How the hell long’s this gonna take, anyway?”

Roadhog shrugged his huge shoulders, just slightly. There was a line of tension across them that was clearly visible. “Had hoped to have her up and running by dark,” he said pointedly, “but someone keeps distracting me.”

Junkrat giggled. “Why’s it a ‘her?’” he jeered, “That the one thing with a pussy you wanna fuck?” He didn’t even really mean anything by it, he was just bored and tired and pissy, and part of him really wanted to bait Roadhog into an argument. He just hadn't actually expected it to work.

Apparently, though, the bike was the red button.

Roadhog stood up suddenly, his huge bulk blotting out the setting sun. A shadow fell across Junkrat like a great black cloak; he would swear the temperature dropped as it did. A lump rose in his throat as he felt Roadhog’s fathomless eyes staring down at him from behind the smokey glass of his gasmask lenses, and for a split second Junkrat almost regretted his smart mouth.

“Rat,” the big junker said quietly, “shut up.”

Junkrat felt the slightest twinge of fear before bravado overwhelmed it. “What’s that?” he cawed loudly, putting a hand up to his ear for emphasis. “Can’t hear ya!”

Roadhog’s big hand suddenly shot out, fisting in Junkrat’s flannel shirt. Shit - hadn’t expected that. The big man pulled the scrawny junker up slightly, nearly onto his toes. “I _said,”_ Roadhog rumbled from behind the mask, _“shut the fuck up.”_

Junkrat could tell he’d finally made the other man mad. The tension between them was palpable. He was suddenly aware of just how much bigger Roadhog was than him, and the shiver of worry that it brought on pissed him off. “Get yer paws off me!” he screeched, trying to shove the other junker’s hand away.

Doing this really reminded him of how tiny he was in comparison with his bodyguard. Roadhog didn’t even flinch when Junkrat tried to shove him. Instead he grabbed Junkrat by the arms and flung him over in one quick movement, lifting him like a straw and flopping him belly-down across the seat of the bike.

“Hey!” Junkrat yelped, a rasping, wheezy sound, as the landing had knocked the air out of his lungs. He tried to get up but felt Roadhog’s boot kick his pegleg out from under him; his own boot scraped in the dirt as he tried to balance, but Roadhog’s big hand grabbed him by the scruff of his neck and shoved him further over the seat of the bike.

“I’ve about had it with you, you little puke,” the big junker growled. He pawed at Junkrat’s ass, grabbing his balls roughly through his jeans, making him squeak. He lifted the smaller man swiftly up over the saddle of the bike, nearly dumping him head-first over the other side but balancing him over the seat with one big hand on the small of his back.

“Get off me!” Junkrat screeched, fighting vainly against the bigger man’s grip. Having his head lowered and his feet off the ground was disorienting; he couldn’t seem to find his centre of gravity. Suddenly he felt Roadhog’s fingers undoing the buckle of his belt, his thumbs hooking in his jeans and tugging them down unceremoniously.

“Oh, fuck no!” Junkrat yelled, fearing the worst. “I ain't your bitch!”

“Naw,” Roadhog rumbled, tightening his grip around the boy’s neck. “You’re just a smart-mouthed little brat.” Suddenly his broad hand clapped down on the curve of Junkrat’s little arse, hard and sharp. Junkrat sucked in a breath, so shocked he couldn’t make much protest. There was hardly a pause before another smack ricocheted off his ass, making him yelp out an undignified little squeal. Unrelenting, Roadhog laid down eight more smacks in the same way, one after the other, until Junkrat’s bare ass was stinging in the cooling desert air.

“What the hell - what the _fuck!!”_ Junkrat screeched. His ass was searing with pain, but his embarrassment and outrage took centre stage at the moment. He thrashed, realizing too late that Roadhog had turned loose of him; he toppled over the big bike and crashed face-first in the red dirt in a graceless tangle of limbs.

The low rumble of Roadhog’s laughter prickled against Junkrat’s hearing and infuriated him. He scrambled to his feet, face and ears burning bright pink as he struggled to pull his pants back up over his burning ass. “What the bloody fuck was _that?”_ he demanded, humiliated and furious.

Roadhog glowered back at him steadily, a massive mountain of immovable flesh. “You were acting like a brat,” he said, very slowly as if he was talking to a dunce, “so you got spanked.”

Anger flashed across Junkrat’s eyes, wild and uncontainable, overwhelming all logic and reason. “Fuck you!” he spat, his voice shrill and cracking. He took a wide, wild swing at Roadhog, which the bigger man easily dodged.

“Do you need another round?” Roadhog asked flatly. His irritation was clear but his tone never changed - unlike Junkrat’s, which was rising hysterically.

“Fuck _you!”_ the boy screamed again, furious at himself for the angry tears he felt prickling at the back of his nose. “I’ll fucking kill you!” He swung at Roadhog again, pathetically ill-aimed and wide, and this time Roadhog caught his arm and yanked the smaller junker into him, bracing one boot against the bike and flinging Junkrat this time over his raised knee. Junkrat found his head disorientingly lower than his arse again, making him dizzy. His head swam for a moment before he felt Roadhog’s thumbs jerk his trousers down a second time, his huge iron hand clapping down on his upturned buttocks in another fast, hard set of ten that set him wailing. 

The hand cuffing his neck knotted into his patchy hair and twisted Rat’s neck painfully around. He saw Hog glaring down at him from above. “You ready to behave now?” Hog growled.

Junkrat twisted in the painful grip, feeling like biting, like spitting, like crying. Instead he screeched “Fuck you!” again, disgusted with the sob in his voice, threatening to overwhelm him.

Roadhog just shrugged, grabbing Junkrat’s skull and twisting his face away again. Rat knew what was coming, and he hated himself for flinching against it, feeling the skin of his ass prickle in anticipation of the oncoming blows. Another hard, fast set of ten, unrelenting and bruising against his tender flesh. Hot tears burst out of his eyes and tracked down his cheeks as he struggled to bite back the screams he wanted to let out. The last three swats wrenched a sob out of him, a pathetic and humiliating sound that only made him angrier - at Roadhog, at himself, at everything.

To make matters worse, he was getting a shameful boner over the whole thing. He could feel himself stiff against Roadhog’s thigh, and he knew the big man must feel it too, must know that he was fucking getting off to this. That made Junkrat want to cry the most, knowing that some sick part of him was liking getting put in his place by Roadhog like this, that his traitorous cock was throbbing against Roadhog’s thick thigh while his big hand paddled Junkrat’s arse and all he could do was squirm and swear and sob like a little bitch. Angry, humiliated tears rolled down his face, snot clogging up his nose and making it hard to breathe. “Let me go, you cunt!” he howled, his voice high and scratchy from crying.

“Not until you behave.” Roadhog’s tone left no room for argument. Junkrat knew what he wanted from him, but he refused to concede. He tried to swear, choked on another humiliating sob, settled for an undignified but at least disrespectful snarl that was half a howl of pain. Roadhog’s big hand clapped him again, searing pain into his skin like a branding iron. The pale flesh was turning bright, angry pink and blotchy red beneath the treatment; deep bruises that had yet to colour were aching through the bones of his narrow little hips. This time Roadhog didn’t pause; he continued to paddle the smaller junker with steady, hard smacks. His hand was growing warm, his palm glowing red, but he showed no sign of fatigue. By the time he’d finished this set, Junkrat was crying openly and noisily. His voice was raspy and thick with phlegm, his face drenched with tears and snot and slobber. He lay limply across Hog’s lap, sobbing audibly, coughing for breath.

“Now - _are you ready to behave?_ ” Roadhog asked again. He grabbed Junkrat’s singed hair again and twisted his head around. Junkrat flinched to look up at him, hating the snot-faced pathetic brat reflected back at him in Roadhog’s lenses, hating himself for letting this happen, hating more than anything that his boner was still hard against Roadhog’s thigh. He wanted to smart off, but some shred of self-preservation kept him from it.

Apparently silence wasn't an acceptable answer for Roadhog. He smacked his huge hand down on Junkrat’s ass again, a single sharp blow that made him squeal, high and pathetic like a kicked dog. “Answer me, brat.”

“Please, please, stop, just stop!” Junkrat bawled, unable to restrain himself. A loud sob choked out of him and bubbled snot out his nose. “Please! I’ll be good! I’ll be good!”

Another smack reverberated through the darkening, still air. Junkrat yelped, shrill and thin. Roadhog’s hand fisted in his hair again, yanking painfully. “That’s not what I asked you.”

Junkrat sobbed, too far beyond any pretense of dignity or pride now to hold back. “Yes, yesyesyes, please, I’ll behave, I’ll behave, Sir, Sir, please, I’ll behave.” He was babbling pathetically, punctuating every few words with another wheezy sob. His cock was still hard against Roadie’s thigh, an ultimate betrayal, and he could only hope Roadhog either didn’t notice it, or chose to ignore it. He didn’t want to think what his punishment would be if Roadhog thought Junkrat was enjoying all this.

“That’s what I thought,” Roadhog said, and abruptly pulled Junkrat off his lap, shoving him away unceremoniously. Rat stumbled and fell on his ass in the dust, unable to keep from yelping as his abused arse came in contact with the hard red dirt. He fumbled to pull his jeans up, whimpering as the rough denim scraped over his raw skin.

Roadhog glared down at him, huge and silent and terrifying. Junkrat cowered on the ground before him like a tiny vermin, his dirty face tracked through with streaks of tears and snot and drool. His hard-on was still obvious, caught in his tight jeans; he choked on a sob and pulled his shirt down to cover it, hoping Roadhog wouldn’t notice it, wouldn't bring attention to it. Please, please, don’t bring attention to it. A little whine escaped him, thin and wheezy and utterly pathetic.

The big junker sneered down at Junkrat, his shadow huge and all-consuming in the dying light. “Too late to do any more work tonight,” he growled. “Gonna build a fire. We’re camping here for the night.” He reached into a saddlebag and pulled out a bandana, flinging it in Junkrat’s face. “You look fucking disgusting. Clean yourself up, you’re making me sick.”

**Author's Note:**

> I might add one more chapter to this with a more explicit sex scene... Comments/kudos are appreciated ❤ My tumblr is sharkaiju <\---


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